


Explosive Evil

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Series: Red Hood Reflections [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bat Family, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7940401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He might've nearly imploded [again] but, at least, his replacement suffered most from the hit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explosive Evil

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this around for a while and didn't post it bc I wasn't completely satisfied but I hope you guys like it.
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr, you'd know i've been writing a bunch of fics, none which are all finished and i'm blaming my shoddy computers [yes plural, my old one broke, my new one also broke after 3 months and i am currently laptopless and it great pain] and my 9 to 5 job which might as well pay me in happy meals because that is all i can afford with it sucks up all my energy/time.
> 
> So yeah, hopefully the next fic will be out soon for my sanity and for your viewing pleasure ;) [i'm sorry]
> 
> Onward!!

Jason congratulated his radical idea to always wear a helmet when out on business. See because ‘business’ tended to finish with explosives and gun fire, and that wasn’t all too easy for personal cinematography or zapping out gas masks. Especially since Jason wasn’t even the one who’d brought the explosive and gun fire this time.

Talk about unwarranted attention seeker.

Jason fanned the settling smoke, easily switching to night vision and shaking out his shoulder to get the feeling back into his fingertips. He’d definitely torn something; a tendon or a ligament – only time and second hand first aid would tell. First things first though, Jason had been in the area for a reason.

It was a mighty shame his replacement had trailed on Jason’s heels and foiled the clean and dry kill Jason had in motion. His replacement had tried his darn tooting hardest to stop Jason’s evil plot, except Jason wasn’t evil and his replacement was a waste of free air in the former meth lab. Maybe if Jason killed his replacement discreetly enough the old man wouldn’t even find out it was Jason.

Who was he kidding, Bruce would find out – the question was; what the hell would Bruce do about that? It’s not like Jason had anything to fear; prison? All the better to kill those scum bagged reptiles and B knew that. Better to leave him in the outside world, where B could still slap a muzzle on him every so often; or so Bruce believed he could, the controlling asshole.

There wasn’t much space to move. He’d gotten lucky – a bomb wouldn’t take him out a second time; it just could never be as explosive as the first time around and who wanted repeats? And it really seemed like his replacement hadn’t gotten lucky.

It was a good day all round; the bad guys were dead or dying from meth inhalation and his little replacement might just join them. Only thing Jason had to do was escape while his filters were still intact and the extra oxygen he had stored in his helmet didn’t run out. As in, a piece of cake or Alfred’ pies – those things still haunted him.

He squirmed out from beneath the steel table that’d protected him, patting the offending piece as Jason kept his head tucked to avoid the sharp rocks. He switched through several vision filters, locating dying heat signatures and calculated how the air currents shifted.

“Bo yah,” Jason grinned, already clawing at crackled ceiling to swivel the dust in mini tornadoes all over again. There was a grunted cough behind him and Jason froze. Then frowned and shifted to locate the sound. “Anybody alive in here because heads up, you ain’t supposed to be,” he called out, switching to heat vision again.

Jason smirked at the newly located warm colored glob, gun hanging lightly in his gloved hand and already switched into his better than military grade night vision. He snickered and crouch, “Well, ain’t this a sight. Aw, don’t look so glum because I’m certain this is how the higher ups intended for it to be – rather poetic don’t you think?” Jason cajoled his replacement, rocks deftly pinned from the waist downward.

His replacement grunted again, elbow’s clawing forward, attempting – hell fighting to get out from under the rubble. His mask had ripped, revealing an ice blue orb – a better model of Jason, without all his faults and pesky anger issues, was that it? B had wanted it hadn’t he? Jason offed was probably a relief – ‘yes Alfred just bring me another Robin off the coat rack, this time let’s make it last’.

Jason growled, gun protruding right in little Timmy’s cheek, right below those big cold orbs. They’d be colder in a second, “Any last words? Not that I got the privilege but ‘do onto others…’, am I right?” he sneered, smirk cocked.

Timmy gritted his teeth, slim jaw all clenched like it meant something, “You’re not going to kill me.” His replacement rasped, all fighters’ spirit and almost exasperated rage, “You would have done that a long time ago…if you really wanted.” Dearest Timmy swallowed, fingers clawing at stone while the other tried to lift him off his knobby elbow, “And if you do. You’ll be just as bad as the Joker,” Timothy-Timothy insisted.

Damn, here Jason thought Timmy was a boring waste of oxygen. Oh wait – Jason laughed, loud and proud. “You’re smart goody two shoes, real smart – only,” Jason drawled, “You didn’t consider that I don’t fucking care about your existence. And that I ain’t a type to bypass an opportunity,” Jason shook his head, “Especially one as great as this.”

“Liar,” Timmy –Two–Shoes retorted, “You care a lot. Why else would you repeatedly attempt to murder me?” His biceps trembling under the weight of holding his head higher, not for much longer though.

Jason’s jaw clenched – thank fuck he had a helmet – and laughed, harsh and obtuse.

“You’re easier to read than you think or want. You don’t even realize it,” Timothy shot back, head tilted as if Jason was a peculiar specimen that hadn’t realized it was under the knife.

Wasn’t the kid on death’s door confident? Jason’s shoulders shook in silent snickers, boots squelching at a particular tilt and Jason blinked down. Two gloved fingers dipping into the thick liquid – well, that death’s door shtick was a bit more accurate than Jason intended.

“Now that can’t be good,” Jason concluded. Kid in red and green buried under rubble and bleeding out – rang a bit too familiar, didn’t it? “So kid, what am I thinking now?”

“Is that…” Timmy blinked at it and carefully registered its origin.

As in, the sluggishly expanding puddle of blood around him and Jason took the time to poke at where waist met jagged remains of a stone tiled ceiling. It was actually kind of funny if you looked at in Jason’s skewed perspective, “Shit, kid. Do you even feel that?”

Timbuktu shook his head, eyelids and mouth twitched and convulsed as he no doubt cataloged symptoms. “I can’t – I think,” Timmy’s breath hissed out harder, fingers sliding against the gravel to reach the puddle around Jason’s boot.

“Definitely nicked something important,” Jason noted to Timothy’s MC-Rich-Son’s low mantra of swear words. The kid literally sweated out of his mask, his breaths heaving quicker, “Great. You realize that panicking will make you lose blood faster,” Jason leaned back on his hands, content to just observe for now.

Tim scowled at him, disappointed in his behavior and overcoming his fear with it. “No, stop really – You’re being too helpful,” Tim drawled, even tossing in an eye roll, free of charge.

Jason snickered; he wouldn’t even think the kid was bleeding out on him here. Not that Jason was all too upset if that was the case. The kid rummaged for his utility belt, grimacing as he jostled his no doubt shattered pelvis.

Jason smirked, “You’re not looking too peachy, are you? You think you can manage to suffocate first instead of bleeding out – be more poetic like that.” Jason awaited expectantly, giddy excitement wilting in his chest at Tim’s strained heave of air.

Jason didn’t say Timothy should suffocate right this second.

Tim glared, all pained desperation and fear that’d smoothed into determination. “If I’m really dying then can you promise me something, swear to me something?” Tim winced, “Like a final wish type thing.”

“That much faith in the Old Bat,” Jason contemplated. At least he kid wouldn’t make Jason’s mistakes, except the dying shtick.

Tim’s glare hardened, “No. I have faith in Batman. I don’t have faith you won’t kill me when I no longer entertain you,” he shot back. Ouch, kiddie clipped on his claws.

Jason laughed, rolling his head. For all intents and purposes relaxed, could’ve been on a beach working on his tan for how relaxed. “Nah, don’t say that kid I’m certain you’ve still a got a few more minutes of entertainment to offer.”

Sweat beading down his forehead and fingers practically swimming in his own blood, Timbers still exhaled in resignation. “You’re too kind,” he deadpanned and his eyes clipped upwards. “I want you stay away from them,” Well, wasn’t this a shock. “They’ve finally managed to rebuild what your death took from them and I won’t let you ruin it.”

Jason sneered, “My death…didn’t take enough from them. I’m not going anyway replacement,” he bared his teeth. His helmet’s filter gritting his words out further, “Unlike you, that is,” Jason added off-handedly.

“You don’t understand,” Rich Child Timothy staggered, bulging biceps failing to almost slam into the stone. He shook his head and blinked beneath furrowed, sweated brows, “I was there. After you died, I – I know you. I’m your replacement, I…” Timber shook his head.

“Every goal, aspiration and success you had I had to do better to prove that I wouldn’t fall where you did,” Timmy insisted. Overly earnest, a little baby couldn’t believe him. “And I never hated you for that, I just felt guilty that I could only become Robin because you died.”

“Should’ve been a poet, Timothy,” Jason informed. The kid had insight, skewed rather naïve insight but it was more than Jason had of that time. He shrugged, “I wasn’t hired to write down how selfless you were. Done dying yet?” Jason checked.

Tim’s head dipped and ducked, “Hate you now though,” he muttered. That made two of them. Jason was all for this entertainment shit.

He snickered, “Going to sleep there Timmy Boy?” Jason swirled a finger in the crimson blood.

Timmy’s head plopped onto his bent fingers, smooched as he fought to remain awake. Yeah, that didn’t happen. He didn’t look like such an unbearable asshole, didn’t look like Robin – looked like an overworked kid, heading down for a unwanted snooze. Tim frowned blearily, “Don’t even know the damage you do…” he grumbled.

And the kid toppled into slumber. Well that wouldn’t end well.

Jason sucked it back, that tight compressed stabbing sensation in his chest and merely drew in air through his flared nostrils. The kid was practically dissolving, sweat and blood flooding off any excess pore.

He should skedaddle before the old man blamed Jason for this.

Jason felt out a pulse in the kid’s neck, still there – real faint, drifting and sluggish. His claws bit into his ankle. Not dead yet – Fuck.

Well, Jason couldn’t let the kid have the last word. Not if Jason didn’t kill Robin himself. “Fuck you, kid,” Jason grumbled.

Somehow Jason’s transfusion wire was already unraveled, gloves snapped off and was in the process of shoving a needle into the crook of his elbow. He wasn’t a universal donor, wasn’t certain of the kid’s blood type even but the Lazarus juices still firing through his veins had more perks than the obvious.

Jason ripped the uniform of the kid’s collar, locating his carotid artery and shoving the recipient needle inside, tacking it down with sticky field gauze. Not the most hygienic or safe but fuck, the kid was already dead without him.

Timber’s whimpered, body jostled as Jason’s blood hit his blood stream and his eyes flickered a bit. “B…?” the kid grunted. No need to insult him.

Jason kneeled, lowering delicately to hiss at the kid’s eardrum. “You die,” Jason warned, “I’ll kill you. And I won’t do it in the homely and kind fashion you’re getting right now, capish?”

Figures the one time Jason would’ve been relieved by a retort the kid didn’t. Jason didn’t want the kid to die – by anyone’s hand but his own, and if someone did kill the kid not in front of Jason.

Jason outstretched his free arm, wincing at the synch and suck of the needle when he got his fingers underneath the rock face flattening the kid down. Jason could lift it; just he didn’t want the kid to bleed out. Didn’t Bruce care about his replacement, or would he just get another Robin off the rack? And Tim was a better Robin then Jason, he knew that – didn’t B?

There was a loud crash and Jason startled, light bursting in from behind as rocks imploded outward, a single large rock slammed into Jason’s shoulders as he shielded the kid. Lucky it hadn’t smashed his spine outright, not that the perpetrator of the explosion would mind all that much. Jason tilted the boulder off his shoulders, hissing out in relief and checked the kid’s pulse – yeah, still faint but faster, good ole’ Lazarus in his blood.

“Robin!” Batman called out, familiar in its weight. It wasn’t for Jason though and the kid still required a transfusion. It’d be for zilch if Jason departed, probably be killing the kid outright. Batman shifted and moved over rocks, “Robin?” he called again, this time in question, almost worried.

Only thing for it; “You move me, Boss Man and he’ll be just another dead bird,” Jason shot back.

The Bat Mobile’s stark light illuminated the thin jagged space between the cracked floor and the rock smashed on the kid’s lower body – just enough room for slim bones. Huh, maybe the kid wouldn’t lose the ability to walk. There was a beam though, thin and metallic holding the rocks up slightly and pierced right through Tim’s thigh.

That’s where all that blood was coming from. The kid might lose that leg then. Oh, well…

Instantly Batman arrived. He shoved his fingers to the kid’s neck, counting for a few painstaking moments while Jason just gauged Batman’s focused strength overruling any weakness. Jason really did love to see B work. “I’ll remove the rock,” Batman declared, “Pull him out when I do,” he ordered. Like Jason was the one in the tattered red and green leotard.

“Only waiting on you,” Jason snorted, painstakingly rolling out the tingling stabs in his shoulders blades. They were definitely chipped and fractured but steady enough to yank the kid out, and keep giving the kid blood. Hell, the kid needed it more than Jason. Batman nodded.

Jason couldn’t read the intention on Bruce’s features – not that that had changed much.

Batman clasped the rocks underside and shouted, “Now!” and heaved, pole and all. Jason yanked the unresponsive kid out, plastering biodegradable gauze from his utility belt onto the kid’s thigh. It soaked the gauze right through and Jason cursed, slapping on another and pressuring down on it. Batman knelt beside him, “Don’t let go,” he ordered, carefully switching Timber onto his back.

“That doesn’t look good,” Jason mentioned absently, blinking back the fogginess that weighed over his vision. He should really stop giving the kid all his blood – he might actually need it. Batman gently felt out Timbuktu’s wounds and Jason whistled at the significant abnormality in the kid’s pelvis. Well, that’d make it hard to use the bathroom with any semblance of dignity.

Batman called it in. So familiar that Jason half expected to hear Alfred’s concerned yet rigidly drawled tone through the interior of his helmet. He licked the sweat gathering over his top lip and glanced down at the pipe sluggishly funneling his blood towards the broken kid. Jason had to quit, time out before he got knocked out and couldn’t retreat.

Jason swayed and steadied onto the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t just leave the kid to die. “Jason,” Bruce shook his shoulder, like it wasn’t the first time and Jason dodged back, accidently ripping the needle out his arm.

Jason cursed, blinking away bleariness, knocking knuckles on his helmet in attempt to rouse any semblance of concentration. “The kid…” Jason croaked and shook his head, “It’d be hell if he kicked it. I didn’t lose two and half pints for sasquatch.”

Batman kept the gauze braced on Tim’s wounds, crouched low and his cape soaking in the blood. “You need medical attention as well Jay. Alfred will be here shortly,” Bruce intoned. He didn’t actually think that’d work. Still, Jason felt that little crack that Bruce at least tried.

Jason shook his head, staggering onto his boots and steadying on an outcropping rock. Batman wanted to move, engage but he wasn’t abandoning his Robin. Jason’s lips quirked upwards but he wasn’t pleased or happy, “Stay with your bird, B; wouldn’t want anyone else to murder him,” he drawled.

He turned on his heel, shuffling towards the bright light of the Bat Mobile to be swallowed in the darkness behind it. Jason had shoulder blades to brace and refrigerated blood to shove in his veins. He didn’t need no one’s assistance – and he definitely didn’t need Batman’s.


End file.
